Film Review: Death Proof

Even with all the fake scratches, the added-on start to the film, the jumps in film, the loops of a small section, the black and white scene, the bad sound – this is still a good-looking movie. What it is not is a good movie. This is a shame, because you hope for more from Quentin Tarantino.

This could be due to Quentin himself; he certainly gives good talk, chatting up his desire to only make the best movie he can make, that it has to be a great version of the genre it is in, the passion he has for cinema in all its form, the understanding he brings. This is infectious and inspires belief in the product. However, his decision to make this film – a homage? A pastiche? Inspired by? – based on his enjoyment of the grindhouse flicks of his youth seems out of step with his words. This film isn’t cashing the cheques his mouth is writing, as it were.

If you haven’t seen the film, you may think that it is supposed to be about cars and old-school car chases. It isn’t. It’s a film about girls talking. And talking. And talking. The actresses all do a great job on the dialogue, smoothly delivering the long discussions and Tarantino-talk, in that filmic style that he has set in place since Reservoir Dogs. The content of the dialogue, however, isn’t up to much. It’s girls talking about the sort of stuff Tarantino thinks girls talk about in the manner of his previous films (I remember an interview where he boasted of a female friend telling him that the conversations were exactly the same as her girlfriends, and how he thought that was great praise – er, no, Quentin, it isn’t). There are a few funny lines (actually by Kurt Russell as the wonderfully named Stuntman Mike) but this isn’t the great dialogue of his first three films.

The story isn’t particularly absorbing either. The first half sees three girls talk a lot in a car, then talk a lot in a bar, stalked by Stuntman Mike, who follows them out at the end of the night and crashes into them (in a scene viewed in several speeds and from different angles), with the alibi of him being sober and the girls being drunk and stoned. The film cuts to later, where we meet some new girls, who talk a lot in a different car, then talk a lot in a diner (in an admittedly well-done single take), then chased by Stuntman Mike before turning the tables and chasing him. We’re not talking a fascinating narrative here. It was a strange experience – being bored in a Tarantino film, wondering when anything is going to happen.

There are some good things. The performances of the major characters are good. Russell is great – there is a great moment in the film, where he gives a great look straight to the camera, a grin on his face, when you both realise what is happening next – and the girls do a good job (even Zoe Bell, Uma Thurman’s stunt double on Kill Bill, does a good job as herself in the film). QT shoots the whole affair with his usual skill – I may not have the hard-on for cars and car chases that he and others have, but you know you’re not watching a shitty, low budget, ‘70s B-movie, even if that is the idea. And the final payoff made me laugh like an idiot, which was nearly enough to make up for the previous two hours.

These things don’t make up for the poor things. Firstly, Quentin should not be allowed to be on screen – to be frank, he’s not an attractive chap, with his huge forehead, funny chin and cavernous mouth. And his acting doesn’t really qualify as acting. Then there’s the feeling of inactivity the film exudes. There is no sense of tension or drama to keep the film’s momentum. Once the car chase comes along, things pick up but it depends on how much you like looking at close-ups of beaten-up cars driving fast down a Californian road. And please quit it with the foot fetish thing already – it’s like he read about Hitchcock putting his sexual preferences into his films, making him an auteur, so he has to do the same. The bizarrest poor aspect was the referencing of car films within the film; normally, QT will bore everyone in interviews with all the films he has seen and which ones are the best for the type of thing he is doing in the film – here, he has the characters say it, not once but twice. That’s just lazy.

I hope Quentin enjoys this film and thinks it’s worthy to be part of his canon, because I didn’t. An uninteresting disappointment – I wonder what it was like when it was still part of Grindhouse …

Rating: DA

Film Notes: Children of Men

I’ve been planning on posting my thoughts on the bunch of DVDs I’ve watched recently – not full reviews, just some reactions and comments – but I saw Children of Men last night and couldn’t contain the urge to write about how fantastic a film it is.

I've mentioned before how great a job Alfonso Cuaron did on Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (and how he should direct all the remaining films), so I shouldn’t have been so surprised at the quality of the film. Yet it managed to amaze, enthral, entertain and affect me in ways I haven’t experienced from all those films I’ve been catching up on via LoveFilm.

Children of Men is set 20 years in the future. Due to an unexplained reason, there have been no births in nearly 20 years. The film starts with news coverage of the death of the world’s youngest man, an 18-year-old Argentinian, who was stabbed. Clive Owen plays Theo, a man heavy with regret and despair, who walks out of the coffee shop (where the television is playing this news), which blows up. That’s an attention grabber.

He goes to visit his friend Jasper (a delightful performance by Michael Caine), a former news photographer who lives in the country with his wife (who is in a catatonic state after possibly being tortured during her reporting days) and grows and smokes his own marijuana – his new blend is Strawberry Cough. An aside – a genius bit of casting, having Caine as a pot-smoking hippy; in a film about serious issues, he brings warmth and humour, and it is possibly the most delightful use of the ‘pull my finger’ in a film.

Upon his return to London, Theo is kidnapped by a rebel group called The Fishes; it turns out that his ex-wife Julian (Julianne Moore) is one of their higher-ups, and needs Theo’s help to get someone to safety. Theo used to be an activist himself – it was where he and Julian met – but he lost the faith when their son died during the flu epidemic. However, Theo has a cousin who can get the transit papers (the UK is under strict control, and illegal immigrants are rounded up into a camp at Bexhill) and Julianne trusts him to do this vital job – to take the first pregnant women to the coast to meet with The Human Project, who could help save the human race …

Everything about this film is exquisite. The script, based loosely on a novel by PD James but more a starting point for the story from Cuaron, is razor sharp – the necessary information is provided as economically as possible for you understand what is going on and to become emotionally engaged with the characters. There are large sections without dialogue – the story is told fully through the medium of cinema. Cuaron’s direction is beautiful – the camera flows through the rubble and the dirt of this future version of humanity. There is an astounding single take sequence near the end, a battle in Bexhill, which lasts nearly 10 minutes and is breathtaking, including a contrasting peace and quiet that suddenly develops in the middle of the shooting and shouting. There are many scenes where the camera doesn’t cut but moves fluidly around the action, giving a sense of heightened reality to the situation. It allows the film to exist in its own perfectly realised world, grabbing you and never letting go from start to finish.

(It helps the viewing experience to be a Londoner – the city is used as a backdrop for a lot of the early film, and it looks so familiar yet so alien. Parts of the city have been transformed to reflect the despair that grips the world, even though the UK seems to be the only country that is functioning on a relatively normal level, other major countries suffering unnamed problems, and it hammers home the idea of what happens to a society that doesn’t have children. Although, in some places, the production team didn’t have to work too hard to make the location look even grubbier …)

This is a remarkable piece of film that strengthens my opinion of Cuaron’s abilities, makes me believe that Owen can be a decent actor and reinvigorated my love of cinema and its power. If you have not seen this film, do yourself a favour and see it immediately.

Rating: DAVE

Comics/Television: In Search of Steve Ditko

I finally got round to watching the Jonathan Ross documentary on BBC4, In Search of Steve Ditko, (I was away when it first aired, and am unable to tape Freeview channels unless at home) and it made me glad I pay my licence fee.

Jonathan Ross is an important personality to the BBC, which is why they pay him so much of that licence fee. I don’t think he’s that special, but what do I know about running a television company? One of the side-effects of this is that he can basically do whatever he wants as in-between projects; for example, there were his enjoyable programmes about Asian (i.e. Hong Kong and Korean) cinema that also aired on BBC4. And now, the Beeb let him make a one-hour programme about a comic book penciller whose last major work was Speedball.

This was an excellent documentary. Ross presented with aplomb – being a comic book fan of old (I used to buy my comics from the shop he co-owned in Soho back in the early ‘90s), he doesn’t resort to the ‘Biff! Bam! Ka-pow!’ of the usually retarded approach to the medium – and the talking heads were intelligent choices who spoke eloquently on the subject and were treated seriously. Ditko’s life and career were covered (although not completely – there was no mention of Shade or Speedball or the bits of work he did in the ‘80s and ‘90s, but that wouldn’t have made for as good a story) and his contributions to the history of comic books were explained.

My favourite bit was probably where Alan Moore told the story of Ditko being told about Watchmen – ah yes, Ditko said, referring to Rorshach, he’s the one like Mr A, only he’s insane – and laughing his head off, much as I was when he told the punchline. Closely following that was the look of sublime happiness on the faces of Ross and Neil Gaiman after they had spent twenty minutes chatting to Ditko (off camera, of course; there exist only a few photographs of him and he doesn't give interview) and holding up the comic books he had given them.

It was a delight to see the medium of comic books (and the costumed superheroics that are the bulk of it) being treated so well. Along with the excellent Comics Britannia series of documentaries, BBC4 has done a great service to the field. Thank you, Auntie Beeb.

Book Review: Vicious Circle

Vicious Circle by Mike Carey

Felix Castor is back in this second novel for more action in the London-based world of exorcism. His ‘trainee’, the succubus Juliet, asks him for his help on the possession of a church near Wormwood Scrubs. His best friend, Rafi, seems to be miraculously free of the possession by the high demon Asmodeus, a possession that Fix unwittingly assisted in the first place. And he’s been asked to find the ghost of a girl by the parents who had got used to having her around. Of course, these three events have more in common that at first would appear …

Carey has crafted another exciting and entertaining story, which delves further into the supernatural elements of the universe he has created for his protagonist (where ghost are now so common that Parliament has bills being prepared about the issue and an entrepreneurial scientist has an entire department set up in Paddington to research it). All the aspects of the first book are still in place – Castor’s witty narrative (with its English-based humour and references), the wonderful sense of a real world of ghosts and were-beings and exorcists, the three-dimensional characters that populate it, and a twisty and engrossing narrative.

This book expands on the first book, maintaining the momentum and developing the themes, the milieu of the book and the intricacies of the supernatural element behind stories. The only qualm I had about the second book is a worry about what I called ‘Kay Scarpetta Syndrome’ – Patricia Cornwell’s heroine who started out as a forensic pathologist in Richmond, Virginia, but ended up being involved with fighting terrorists and saving America – the expansion of the character out of its small and interesting world into ever larger and larger dramatic situations and outside of their natural setting. In this case, I hope Fix doesn’t end up battling Heaven and Hell with just his tin whistle …

Still, I couldn’t help but enjoy this compelling and well-crafted tale about a great character – more please, Mr Carey.

Brain Dump: I'm Sorry For Finding This Sexy

I have seen this image, six foot high, adorning the walls of London Underground EVERYWHERE this week. In the short tunnel down from the District line platform to the Piccadilly line platform there are three alone. It's not quite the same as above; the author's name isn't so large on the poster (this is the paperback cover) and there's a little more space on the left side, but you get the idea.

And it's haunting me.

Now, I don't particularly find Posh that attractive. She's not ugly but she's not gorgeous. She's pretty in a plain way, and she looks good in photos. However, I find this image very erotic.

It's not her necessarily; she poses well, with the pout copied from the porn star look (which Greg Land will no doubt be using for photo reference some time soon) and the hair artfully falling down the face. But it's too do with the sensuality of the upper half of her body covered (and Posh must be one of the only thin women who can wear hoops and not appear fat; I thought women would only wear stripes ...) but the legs are naked to the high heels. That is damned sexy to me. The hint of knickers makes the image even more alluring, for some reason, even though the lack of underwear would be even more erotic. I can't stop looking at it when I see it.

The reason for this strange attraction is because the ensemble reminds me of my earliest memory of finding something sexy: the video for Denis by Blondie, with Debbie Harry in a red-striped bathing suit and a blazer. It stirred things in me at a very young age, and that connection has never gone away. (Tom the Dog recently did an A-Z of his Objects of Affection; it had Angie Dickinson in a top and shoes and nothing else, and I found her attractive for the first time ever.)

And for the last week, I keep seeing this everywhere I have travelled. It's very distracting, also because I don't want to feel that towards Victoria Beckham. Hopefully, by talking about it in this post, I hope to have cathartically removed it from my system. Or hope that they take the posters down soon (it's a bit early for the Christmas book rush, isn't it?).

Back to normal posting next. Thanks for indulging me.

From A Library: Alice in Sunderland

Alice In Sunderland by Bryan Talbot

How cool is my library? To have Bryan Talbot’s Alice in Sunderland in stock so soon after it is published? And what a book it is – a massive, impressive hardback tome, heavy with knowledge and delight. It just defies easy description – it’s not a graphic novel or a comic book, that’s for sure.

Trying to describe what it is about is a bit tricky – it starts with a man going into the Sunderland Empire, the only man in the audience being told a narrative by another man, who is also talking directly to us as well. The basis of the tale is the research by a Sunderland resident that suggests that the inspiration behind Alice in Wonderland by Charles Dodgson aka Lewis Carroll was not Oxford, as perpetuated by his descendants, but was his time in Sunderland. The evidence is compelling; I for one am convinced by the thesis.

But the book is not just about this. It is also about Sunderland and its history, as well as taking in the history of the UK, the history of comic books in the UK and popular entertainment in the North of England (Sid James acts as a Greek chorus, his ghost haunting the Sunderland Empire as that was where he famously died while on stage). The book is crammed with fascinating vignettes about local life, including the Northern man who invented the light bulb, a notorious woman serial killer, the Venerable Bede and the architectural development of the city.

To do all this, Talbot employs a diverse variety of artistic techniques – from his usual clear pencilwork, to excellent imitations of other comic book styles (such as Herge), to photographs and collages – that greatly enriches the account. The amount of research and effort that has gone into this is amazing and well worth it; Talbot has created a stunning piece of work. It is fascinating, funny, exhaustive, rewarding and superb. And a fitting end to From A Library Week.

From A Library – X-Men: Deadly Genesis

X-Men: Deadly Genesis #1–6 by Ed Brubaker and Trevor Hairsine

The continual nature of superhero comic books require the necessity of the retcon to introduce new elements to the otherwise static nature of the narrative. In the early days, continuity wasn’t a big deal; it was the development of the fan (and writers who were fans) that led to its blossoming. Now, the only aspects about the retcon that matters are whether it is done well and if it provides a new angle that is genuinely interesting. Alan Moore retconned Swamp Thing – this led to the creation of the DC imprint, Vertigo. John Byrne tried to retcon Spider-man’s early years, something everyone is trying to forget. (Byrne might be a special case in retcons: he enjoys telling stories from within established histories – X-Men: The Hidden Years, Marvel: Lost Generation, and famously rebooted Superman in the 1980s.)

X-Men: Deadly Genesis is a retcon – in order for Brubaker to set up his new storyline in the X-Men, this mini-series was devoted to introducing Vulcan, the third sibling in the Summers family. In the original Giant-Size X-Men #1, the first X-Men team is rescued from Krakoa, the Living Island, by the second team of X-Men (including Wolverine, Colossus, Nightcrawler, Storm, Banshee). However, Deadly Genesis reveals how Vulcan was the leader of the actual second team who were sent to rescue the first team, only for them all to die (with the exception of Vulcan, who survived in space by absorbing the powers of his team-mates, only resurrected by the events at the end of the House of M). Xavier mind-wiped any knowledge of this from anyone who knew, and sent the next team of X-Men into the fray.

The construction of this retcon is done well. Brubaker has done his homework and made the narrative transition smooth (well, as smooth as possible for a 'everything you know is wrong' story). However, whether or not it is worth it is up to debate. The story doesn’t really add anything to the mythos (past introducing Vulcan for the ongoing series) and takes a long time to do it; six issues seems padded, made even more so by the back-up strips telling us about the fateful members of Vulcan’s team – they are ciphers in Vulcan’s story, so they are pointless (if well-told) tales.

Other aspects of the story don’t sit well after reading. The ‘death’ of Banshee (I am reminded of the Peter David line: "Sometimes it seems that in mutant heaven, there are no pearly gates, but instead revolving doors.") seems gratuitous, seeming to be there only to provide weight to the story. Xavier’s actions don’t seem entirely in character, and Vulcan doesn’t seem a particularly interesting character after all this build-up.

The comic isn’t helped by the inconsistency of the art – Hairsine (whose artwork reminds me of a grimy Bryan Hitch) provides full pencils for only the first two issues, leaving inkers (notably Scott Hanna) to do the legwork in the remaining four issues.

Brubaker is a great writer, and I wish him success with his tenure with the X-Men, but he hasn’t done anything with this story (albeit well crafted) to make me go back to reading the X-Men.

From A Library: The Originals

The Originals by Dave Gibbons

Dave Gibbons (didn’t he try to be ‘David Gibbons’ at one stage, to be taken more seriously? I understand the dilemma – I’ve never liked the ‘Dave’ contraction myself, only allowing it in sport situations – but history and common knowledge will out, so Dave he is) is famous for his collaboration with the bearded wizard of Northampton, but he has created a lot more besides. His work with Frank Miller on Martha Washington, his writing (currently for the DC universe) and his work on 2000AD – he tries not to be tied down to his most well-known work.

The Originals is an original graphic novel created, written and drawn by Gibbons, published by the Vertigo imprint. It is unusual in that it is in black and white (and grey) – a strange choice in the modern comic book industry. It’s also an odd choice for a book that it set in the near future – the setting isn’t particularly necessary for the story, but it does set it apart from its inspiration.

Herein lies the problem – the book seems to be the story of mods and rockers of ‘60s England, set in the near future (they ride hoverbikes), as seen through the eyes of a couple of characters. It charts the rise of a couple of wideboys into the local mod gang, and how one of them gets into dealing drugs to pay for a good bike to impress a woman. There is also a death and fights with the rockers and the choices people make. However, the story doesn’t feel like it needed to be told, or that it needed to be done via the medium of comics.

The story is well told and the characters well defined; Gibbons is an excellent storyteller, perhaps due to the skills of both writer and artist. His panels are clear and progress the story clearly, even if I have never fallen in love with his anatomy and faces (and I don’t know why, the number of times I have read Watchmen). It just didn’t grab me, and the echoes of Quadrophenia (if not the exact same narrative) make it seem less fascinating for some reason. Well crafted but not for me.

From A Library: Fantastic Four by JMS

Fantastic Four #527 – 532 by JMS and Mike McKone

Welcome back to From A Library Week. Today is the collection of the first six issues of the Fantastic Four by J Michael Straczynski. I looked in the book for the name of this collection but couldn’t find any indication of it – sounds like they’re trying to hide something … Is this supposed to be just called ‘Fantastic Four’, as if there was never a Fantastic Four comic before?

JMS seems to have the same attitude towards the Marvel comic books he has written – Dr Strange, Spider-man – where he believes that he has the answer to the origins of the classic characters and retcons them to reflect some higher spiritual connection. In this collection, he now has the origin of the Fantastic Four linked to the creation of the universe itself, helping the universe to create itself and then return the favour. It is the most incredibly annoying, smug and conceited storytelling I have read in a long time.

It’s not all about a totally unnecessary retooling of one of the most pure and classic modern origins. He balances this with making Ben Grimm rich (even though all members of the FF weren’t poor to begin with) and having Sue Richards investigated by the social services for putting the children in trouble – oh, the relevancy! It’s all rather depressing – I’ll stick with his Rising Stars and Midnight Nation creations rather than his ridiculous ‘reimaginings’.

It’s not all awful – Mike McKone’s artwork keeps the interest visually. His style seems softer than when I first saw it way back when, which doesn’t seem completely in synch with the hard sci-fi concept of the Fantastic Four, but his strong storytelling abilities help proceedings move along smoothly (although he does skimp on the backgrounds in places). But there’s only so much he can do with the writing on display here – thank goodness JMS didn’t stay around for long.

From A Library: American Born Chinese

Welcome to From A Library Week – a whole week of reviews of comic books that I borrowed from my excellent local library. First up, American Born Chinese by Gene Luen Yang.

I enjoy reading reviews, particularly on the internet. The discussion of stories and the introduction to things I have not tried or even heard of before are a joy of the comics blogosphere. Of course they are not always right, but sometimes they get it right. And American Born Chinese is one of those cases.

I had heard a lot of positive things about this book, without giving it too much thought. It sounded like an impressive achievement, but it didn’t seem like the thought of thing I would try of my own accord. So, when it appeared in my local library, I was astonished; it didn’t sound like the sort of graphic novel that would be at home with the Marvel/DC/Buffy trade paperbacks that populate the shelves there. I had to read it, didn’t I?

The book starts with the Monkey King, turning violent when he is turned away from a party in Heaven. The next section is about Jin Wang, who wants nothing more than to grow up to be a Transformer, as he adapts to school being the only Chinese child in it, and when he is joined by Wei-Chen Sun from Taiwan, to whom he takes a dislike but ends up being friends with anyway. The final part of the story is a sitcom called ‘Everyone Loves Chin-Kee’, about the stereotyped racist Chinese man – yellow, buck-toothed, with the pigtail, speaking with the accent (‘So vely solly.’) – who is somehow cousin to an American boy called Danny, and will be attending school with him, much to Danny’s embarrassment.

The next chapters in each story relate how the characters want to integrate into their environs – Monkey King was to be treated as an equal, but is buried under rock by He Who Is when he cannot accept the truth; Jin tries to blend into school and is attracted to a girl in his class; Danny is mortified by Chin-Kee’s antics in school and worries that nobody will think of him as a person anymore, just as Chin-Kee’s cousin. The subsequent chapters reveal the linking thread between all three stories that resonates on the themes of the story.

It is rare that I am so thoroughly charmed by a comic book, especially when I wasn’t expecting it. I was expecting this to be ‘worthy’ or ‘heavy’; American Born Chinese was funny, real, moving, entertaining and meaningful. Gene Luen Yang has created a delightful piece of work, complemented by his startlingly vibrant artwork – cartoony yet stylish, dynamic yet designed, able to handle humour, action and drama with ease.

Thank you, internet, for letting me know about this wonderful comic book.

Books: No Dominion

No Dominion by Charlie Huston

I really enjoyed Already Dead, the introduction to Joe Pitt and the Vampyr Clans of Manhattan, and so was really looking forward to the second book, No Dominion. What I didn’t realise was how good it was going to be.

Joe is going through tough times after the first book, where he burned bridges with the Coalition, the largest and richest of the Vampyr clans, and now has no regular job or any money or access to fresh blood (which needs to be obtained in discrete fashion to keep the vampyrs from getting noticed). When he witnesses a vampyr spazzing out in the bar where his girlfriend Evie works and is then asked by his friend and former boss, Terry, head of the Society, to look into this dangerous new drug, it starts a chain of events that leads to more than he bargained for.

Charlie Huston has delivered another thrilling ride for Pitt, as well as providing insights and clues into how the clans work and what the future has in store. Although the story starts slowly, it becomes a non-stop thrill once it gets going and you feel hungry for more after you finish – the book was too short at around 250 pages. Pitt gets more face-time with Daniel and the Enclave, and we get to see the Hood, the Clan above 110th street that took its turf from the Coalition, and its leader – DJ Grave Digga. Huston excels here with his excellent dialogue; sometimes a white author can really fall flat on his face trying to write authentic ‘urban’ but Huston gets it right.

The mix of the witty, hard-boiled narration from Pitt, the authenticity of Manhattan, the explosive action and the complexities of the characters and Clans make for a scintillating and dazzling read that leaves you breathless. What’s more, the organic development of the character within this world never feels forced for the sake of Huston’s plan for a proposed five books – everything that occurs feels completely natural within the context of the narrative, making the conclusions logical and the intricate plot a thing of beauty. No Dominion is cracking read and it has only increased my hunger for the next books.

Film Notes: In-Flight Films (Part 3)

You'll be happy to know this is the last in the series. Nine films on four flights (including one where I slept throughout) is quite impressive, even if I do say so myself.

Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End
(or, as I call it, At Wit’s End – I'm so funny ...)

I really didn’t like the second film, even advising you not to see it in cinemas. I took my own advice and didn’t go anywhere near it. However, getting to see for free the end of something I had already paid to see proved too irresistible – I blame the high altitude.

Sluggish. Bloated. Pointless. Tedious. Disappointing. All words that come to mind to describe this sad waste of 3 hours but don’t take away the heartache of having actually watched it. I feel let down by Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio – they have written some good movies and dispensed much wisdom about films and the film biz and screenwriting on their excellent website, Wordplay, so it’s contradictory that the script for this film is such a mess. Nothing feels organic about this; it isn’t a film that demands telling or watching. The plot is so pointless – see Rod Hilton’s Abridged Script for a further dismantling – I’m amazed the film lasts for so long. An anecdote from Keira ‘The Chin’ Knightley tells of acting scared in the first few takes with Chow Yun Fat; the director asks her what she is doing acting scared. Well, she says, he’s just kidnapped me and I don’t want to be here. To which Verbinski replies, you haven’t BEEN kidnapped. The script, supposedly for the second half of a film that was being made at the same time, wasn’t near ready and nobody knew what the hell was going on at any particular time. And it certainly feels like it.

There is nothing to recommend about this film. Chow Yun Fat is wasted in two scenes. Bloom and The Chin seem even more wooden. Even Depp can’t liven things up with his over-the-top turn as Jack Sparrow – even he feels tired with it all. The action scenes are inert and the climax of the film is so stupid and blatant in a grab for a spin-off/sequel that you actually feel a little dirty inside. Please avoid this film.

Rating: DA

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Catch and Release

Justification for watching this film:
1. It has Kevin Smith in it
2. I like romcoms
3. It was free to watch on an airflight

Admittedly, it does have an intriguing set up for a film – the groom dies just before the wedding and the bride then discovers secrets about him afterwards – but that’s a huge hill to climb back from to get to the romance. The comedy is mainly down to Kevin Smith in the ‘fat friend/sidekick’ role, which he handles pretty well. As for the romance, we are presented with two options for Jennifer Garner: the quiet best friend of the groom who is stable and genuinely nice; or the annoying, smug tit (and friend of the groom) who shags a waitress in the bathroom at the wake and doesn’t recover in our standing for the rest of the movie. So, when she ends up with the latter (after the obligatory ‘misunderstanding/break up/go after him to show feelings’ turn of events, plus an awkward oration of affection from the quiet best friend so that he can be discarded), you feel cheated – there is nothing to suggest that they would make a good couple. It also doesn’t help that the romantic line at the end is the same as in Clerks II – ‘What took you so long?’ – and the difference between the great delivery of Rosario Dawson and the bland delivery of Tim Olyphant is astronomical, and just highlights the chasm between the two.

Rating: DA

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Blades of Glory

Will Ferrell in mostly plot-less comedy that is an excuse for him to ad lib? Amusing, not great but hysterical in places (see Anchorman or Talladega Nights). Will Ferrell in comedy where the plot is more important? Not so funny (see Bewitched or Old School). Blades of Glory falls into the latter camp. Seeing Ferrell and Jon Heder (basically Napoleon Dynamite in a blond wig) together on the ice in their lycra is very, very funny. Outside of that, the film bumbles along, seemingly satisfied that the concept alone (of two men skating as a pairs team at the Olympics) will be enough to carry them through. They are wrong. Basically, if you watch this on DVD, fast forward through the film except where you see the two of them on the ice rink in front of the crowd.

Rating: DA

Film Notes: In-Flight films (Part 2)

As with before, In-Flight Film reviews come with the caveat of being watched in a cylindrical tube 33,000 feet in the air on the back of the seat of the annoying twat in front who seems to have a constant twitch and likes to recline. A lot.

Next

I’m obviously reaching a stage in my life where I’m becoming more sensitive to the age gap between romantic pairs in films. I’m not talking about the nausea-inducing gap of Sean Connery and Catherine Zeta-Jones in Entrapment, which is the extreme of the standard Hollywood practice of putting young women with their ageing stars. In Next, Nicolas Cage, 43, and Jessica Biel, 25, have sex and develop a deep romantic bond (which is important to the plot – Cage’s character can see two minutes into the future, except where it concerns Biel’s character, the vision of his meeting with her coming well in advance of this limit, thus being a sign of true love. Or something.) Now, while I have no doubt that movie star Nic Cage can get women 20 years younger than him to sleep with him, I find it off-putting when watching a film about fictional characters who aren’t film stars. All I could think about was the age gap and the silly hair that Cage has in the film in an effort to make him look young enough so that it isn’t creepy when he beds Biel.

The film is not too bad – there are some nice moments with Cage using his future-viewing abilities, such as the escape from a casino near the start, and the plot (about some nasty terrorists planning to explode a stolen nuclear bomb [are there any other kind?] in America) moves along quite smoothly. Cage, Biel and Julianne Moore don’t embarrass themselves, and cross-dressing director Lee Tamahori handles things well. It is nothing dazzling but it’s not quite as bad as you might have heard (especially for something based on a Philip K Dick novel – he has been abused worse in the past), and I quite liked the ending. Satisfactory in-flight entertainment.

Rating: VID

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Fracture

This wasn’t a first-choice (or even second-choice) film for me, but I didn’t understand the complexities of the airlines system for which films are shown on which flights in which order. But I thought I could bear to watch Anthony Hopkins and Ryan Gosling face-off against each other (with English actresses Rosamund Pike and Fiona Shaw [Petunia Dursley!] doing American accents). And, although they were interesting to watch, this thriller – about Hopkins shooting his wife but getting away with it even though he confessed because the arresting detective was sleeping with his wife and they couldn’t find the gun – hinges on a twist which is so unbelievably obvious that I spent the rest of the movie saying to myself, ‘I really hope that the whole film doesn’t revolve around THAT plot point’. (Yes, I can speak in upper case.) Still, Hopkins plays nasty with ease and Gosling is good in the Tom Cruise role of arrogant hot-shot learning to do things properly, so it could have been worse. If only it hadn’t been so predictable …

Rating: DA

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Becoming Jane

In contrast to English actresses doing American accents, we have an American doing English. Even though this is a right of passage for an upcoming American actress, Anne Hathaway does the accent well – this is necessary in a film about the very English writer Jane Austen.

Basically, this film is a ‘Shakespeare in Love’ for Jane Austen, using a typical Jane Austen plot for the movie – Jane is a proto-feminist who is fancied by the rich nephew of the local matriarch (Maggie Smith) but she wants to marry for love, like her mum (Julie Walters) to her poor reverend father (James Cromwell). Along comes Tom Lefroy (James McAvoy), who rocks her world even though they don’t initially like each other. But they can’t be together.

I’m perhaps being a little flippant with the plot summary, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy the film. On the contrary, it was extremely watchable and well-acted – the chemistry between Hathaway and McAvoy is palpable (particularly the scene where they dance – incredibly erotically charged), and the story (if perhaps not completely true – the filmmakers don’t intend it to be a biopic) is emotionally engaging and believable. There are moments of humour and drama and sadness – exactly what you want from a film of this sort.

Rating: DAVE

Film Notes: In-Flight Films (Part 1)

I know I said I wouldn’t talk about the China trip, but this is only tangential – films watched while flying there and back.

I know that watching movies on the back of somebody’s chair isn’t quite the experience that most filmmakers want for their product, but it’s still a valid way to view them (even if they are full screen and have been edited to remove swearing, violence and sex that might shock some child sitting next to you – as if) and make snarky comments about on your blog.

Having said that, Emirates provide good in-flight entertainment, especially on their 777s, where you can select your film from a huge choice and can pause, fast-forward, etc., whenever you want. So, I’ll talk about the films I saw in chronological order for the sake of some sort of organisation.


Shooter

I really liked the book, Point of Impact. Seriously. Stephen Hunter wrote one of the best thrillers I’ve read, with a great sense of ‘men doing what has to be done’ throughout the book. I think the book might have been recommended by Garth Ennis in the letter column of Preacher, which should give you an idea of the macho-yet-sensitive vibe.

Mark Wahlberg is a former marine sniper who now lives alone in the woods. He is charmed by Danny Glover into helping them prevent an assassination attempt by scoping out the sniper shot, only for him to be set up and framed for killing of a priest on the same diaz as the president. He goes on the run to prove his innocence and get the men who set him up.

This is a great set-up for a film – Hunter was a film critic himself (winning a Pulitzer prize for it) – and the book reads very cinematically, but without seeming like an embellished screenplay. However, the film misses the depth of the Bob Lee Swagger character by going for the young man able to do the running around – the book has Swagger as Vietnam vet with a hip from his last mission as a marine who is old and bitter and seasoned, living alone with his dog. It grounds the story in experience and regret, rather than the film having Wahlberg’s ‘three years later’ version of the character. As such, it goes for the action stakes more highly but Antoine Fuqua doesn’t create anything special, so it loses on both fronts.

Rating: VID

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Shrek the Third

In writing this, I’m desperately trying to remember the film and failing. Shrek was a delightful panacea to Disney’s saccharine output, and Shrek 2 was just plain funny. But this was just awful. Not Shark Tale awful, but it felt worse in comparison to its predecessors. Starting off in dinner theatre probably wasn’t a good start, and it just rolled along clunkily from there. I don’t remember laughing; I might have smirked occasionally. A boring story about Shrek getting Artie (as in King Arthur) to take over the throne because he doesn’t want it, while Prince Charming gets the all the bad folk of Far, Far Away to rebel. Snoozeville.

Rating: DA

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Waitress

I’ve never seen Felicity, so the only time I have seen Keri Russell was dying from a bomb in her brain at the beginning of MI:3. Bit of a change – here she plays a waitress in a pie shop (but who also creates new pie concepts as well) with a thoroughly unpleasant husband who gets her pregnant after getting her drunk, and she doesn’t want the baby. She starts an affair with her doctor, the ever-watchable Nathan Fillion, who is also married.

This is a strange little movie, existing in its own world and creating an unusual and unique atmosphere. It looks like it wants to be a traditional romcom, with the two lovers going off together, but it veers away from the cosier ending (although the plot twist that allows our heroine to follow her dream of going to the pie-making contest is telegraphed). However, it does provide a narratively satisfying conclusion for the character, making a positive choice in her relationship with her abusive husband, so you can forgive some of the strange detours the story takes with other characters in the film.

It’s also strange to watch the film knowing that the filmmaker, Adrienne Shelley, who wrote, directed and acted in the film, was tragically killed after the movie was made. Still, she left a mark in this charming film and in the beautiful scene where Russell recognises that Fillion’s odd doctor actually likes her and she smiles no matter what …

Rating: VID

Return Of The Critic

And I’m back. The reason for my absence was a lovely holiday in China, which I won’t be blogging about. I wrote copious notes but don’t feel that this blog is a travelogue, nor that I am capable of writing it up in an interesting way. I may change my mind, but don’t expect any changes from the ‘journal of my pop culture’ approach.

I’ve been recovering – the holiday was an exhausting touring trip – so didn’t have the energy to blog for the last couple of days, as well as trying to catch up on my blog reading: Google Reader doesn’t count over 100 items, and there were individual blogs that had that many alone, so lots of reading …

And among that reading was the news that stopped me from writing anything on this blog for a few days – learning of the sudden death of Mike Wieringo. I was completely stunned.

I have read blog posts about the deaths of various comic book artists and the effect it had on the blogger. For most of them, it didn’t really mean much to me – the people in question would be names I had heard of but they didn’t have a personal connection with me.

With Mike Wieringo, however, it was different – his artwork is part of my personal comic book history. My progression outside of Marvel was with The Flash by Mark Waid and Ringo, and his distinctive, joyful style stayed with me (he was one of the artists I talked about in a previous post). I was there for his creator-owned project, Tellos, and his recent wonderful run on the Fantastic Four, again with Waid.

Add to that his blog, where he posted sketches and thoughts regularly, and he became part of my pop culture fabric. To learn that he was a health-conscious vegetarian who died from a heart attack at 44 was a complete shock and a terrible loss to his family and to the world of comic books.

His art style was delightful and fun, and he told the story cleanly and smoothly, with wit and charm. Even his signature, with the exclamation mark (and I’m not a great fan of those), shouted of his boundless enthusiasm and enjoyment for his work. My thoughts go out to his family – you will be missed (as evidenced by all these people remembering him), Mike, but thanks for your output while you were here.